Home
by Heero de Fanel
Summary: A post series look at the Class VII bookworms. Machias gets in late and Emma's still up; fluff ensues.


**Home**

Because CSII is really starting to ramp up where I am right now, and between that and all the talk about what Serious Plot Developments might happen in CSIII I thought some simple domestic fluff might be nice. (Takes place looonng after Eight by Eight and Turnabout, if anyone's wondering).

* * *

"… You can stop skulking around and come in, you know," a clear voice rang out, sounding more than a little amused. "I'm still awake."

The creaking door stopped dead for a second before swinging open all the way, revealing a slightly sheepish looking Machias Regnitz. "So you are. Um… hello. Sorry I'm late," he greeted lamely.

"'Hello' yourself," Emma laughed softly, setting down her book on the nightstand and fixing a fond gaze on the room's newest occupant. "We really have to stop meeting like this, Machias."

"You mean at 11:00 at night?" the green haired man deadpanned, setting down his satchel and unbuttoning his jacket. "Agreed. Believe me, if I had any say in the matter I'd have been back hours ago."

She could only nod sympathetically at that as she watched him remove his ARCUS and place it beside her own. It wasn't as if she had never been in that situation herself; being the capital city of the Empire, Heimdallr's clinic never had any shortage of patients at any given time. "Mm. Rough day, I take it?"

"Yes and no," Machias sighed, taking a seat on the bed and smiling a little as the brunette turned to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "I'll put it this way; the major problem today was that there were forty five small ones and not even close to enough people to deal with them all."

"Ah, I see. Death by a thousand cuts, then."

A resigned shrug. "Essentially speaking. Fortunately we managed to get everything that was urgent taken care of, and nothing huge is looming for tomorrow other than a few preliminary discussions about first drafts for upcoming policy change proposals."

Emma couldn't help but chuckle quietly at that. "Preliminary discussion for first drafts. For proposals, no less. Well, you certainly can't say that Heimdallr's government doesn't cover all its bases."

Machias made a face. "Somehow I don't think you'd be that generous if you ever sat in on one of those meetings. I think you'd be rather disillusioned, truth be told."

"One of the many reasons why I never visit you at work," she jibed, idly resting against him while she slipped her right hand into his and squeezed comfortingly.

"I suppose I should be grateful. I'll take time consuming but simple and bloodless any day over the alternative." A brief pause. "Enough about that, though. How was your day?"

She 'hmmed' in reply, before finally shaking her head. "Not much to tell, honestly. There were no major emergencies and all our existing patients are recovering nicely, so it was as close to relaxing as you can get. There was even time to run out and get that. It just came out today," Emma added, gesturing toward the book she had set down while trying – and failing – to conceal a mischievous grin.

"Hmm?" Machias intoned, turning his head to get a better look. "What book is – *oh.*"

"Part thirteen of Dorothee's ongoing saga that's enraptured Erebonian females and males alike," Emma noted, clearly enjoying his reaction upon seeing the familiar pseudonym on the cover. "I think all of the Class VII based characters make an appearance in this one, too – that's what Alisa said when she called me earlier, anyway."

"I'm still failing to understand… why are we letting her make money off us again?" Machias groused, not enthused in the slightest.

"Well, she made enough changes to them that they really aren't recognizable as us anymore, plus… well, to be frank she's gotten a lot better on focusing more on the storytelling and less on the… ahem, you know…"

"Smut?" came the shameless reply.

"Unfortunately I can't say that's an inaccurate term," she sighed. "But still, it's sort of neat to see Class VII in print, don't you think?"

"Not really. Though to be fair, I didn't think it was particularly neat the first time around."

"Well considering the trysts that you and Jusis shared in your initial character arc I can't say I blame you," Emma tweaked 'innocently', the playful gleam in her sapphire eyes betraying her amusement.

Years ago, his reaction would have inevitably involved furious sputtering and more than a little yelling; it was a testament to how much Machias had matured that he now limited himself to a pained groan and drawn out eye roll. "You know, technically we're all public figures – ironically enough even more so when we have to leave our posts and go back into the field for whatever reason. I'm almost certain we'd have a case for slander if we pushed for it."

"Hehe. Well, if it helps you feel any better Celine agrees with you on that front, though personally I think she enjoys seeing you squirm too much to ever tell you that," Emma said, yawning a little as she spoke.

"I suppose that explains the tiny smirk she had on her face when I saw her leave a few minutes ago," Machias mused, standing up to open a window for the familiar to pop in from whenever she returned from her late night stroll. "I was wondering what that was about…"

When he didn't hear a reply he turned around to see the brunette yawning again, and he couldn't help but frown slightly. "You don't have to wait up for me, you know," Machias told her, feeling a little guilty; she needed her rest too, after all. "If you need to sleep – "

An artfully raised eyebrow stopped him dead in his tracks. "As if that's ever stopped you when the shoe happened to be on the other foot?" she asked rhetorically, knowing very well what the answer was.

His reaction was about what she expected; while he had indeed grown in many ways over the years, he hadn't changed *that* much. "W-Well, that's…"

 _"Nervous stammering,_ " Emma thought with the slightest hint of glee. " _Checkmate. I win."_

Out loud, "Don't be silly. I was reading, anyway," she explained, gesturing to the novel again before sliding her glasses off her face and setting them down beside the book. "An extra hour or two won't hurt. And besides…"

"Besides?" he queried.

"I think I've gotten too used to this," the witch finally laughed, an alluring flush spreading across her cheeks at the admission. "I find it much easier to drift off when you're here, you know."

Machias could only smile softly at that and admit defeat, knowing the feeling all too well. "Now that's hardly fair. What exactly am I supposed to say to that?"

Emma reached into a nearby drawer, shaking her head affectionately all the while. "Oh, I have a feeling you're not supposed to say much of anything," came her quick reply. "If you wouldn't mind doing something, however…" she continued, before extending a brush toward the bespectacled male.

A few seconds passed before Emma felt the familiar sensation of fingers delicately winding and smoothing their way down the length of her unbound hair, and she slowly closed her eyes in response and eased herself toward his side, savoring the thorough, deliberate ministrations all the while.

Truth be told, Machias wasn't exactly sure how or when this had become part of his nightly routine, but he could hardly say he minded it, especially when it relaxed her to the point where she would lazily slump against him and be content to make pleasant little noises that, to the untrained ear, sounded suspiciously like –

"Mmm… "

The green haired man bit his lip to stifle any sounds of mirth before he began to brush carefully, taking his time and making sure that there were no tangles to be found. For the multitude of comparisons that had been made between Fie and the average (non-talking, non-spellcasting) feline, Machias would bet hard earned mira that the ex-Jaeger had never spent *any* length of time purring away like a cat that had found a nice sunny patch to lie in.

" _Well, if you grow up with Celine as a virtual sibling for your whole life…"_ he thought drolly, very much enjoying the feeling of brushing through the waves of chestnut silk and the intoxicating scent of strawberry that was so deliciously close…

… and the scent only got closer still when Emma tilted her head to the side and looked up expectantly, her tired eyes half-lidded but still bright with affection nonetheless. "You know, we still haven't greeted each other properly yet."

"So we haven't," Machias quietly agreed, favoring the brunette with a smile that was only ever meant for her and her alone. "That was rather remiss of us, wasn't it?"

"It really was," the witch pointed out, a playful note in her voice. "I don't suppose you would have any ideas on how to remedy that?"

His response to that was to give a low chuckle while moving to brush his lips against her cheek, and he was rewarded when she turned to close the gap herself, the happy sigh against his mouth the best 'welcome home' he could have asked for.

… Home. It had meant a lot of things over the years – Erebonia at large, his childhood house in the Ost District, the Class VII dormitory – but there was no doubt in his mind that home was now wherever this woman was, and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

"I'll have you know this was absolutely worth waiting up for," she giggled breathlessly in between kisses, her complexion a rosy shade of red, and Machias couldn't help but join in.

"I can't say I disagree," came the cheeky reply, leaning down to kiss her softly one more time before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close, reveling in how well she fit against him. "Still, are you sure you're not going to be tired tomorrow?"

"Not as tired as we would have been if you had kept on going like that," she murmured drowsily, tucking her head against the crook of his neck and this time it was the green haired man who sported the furious blush. "Glasses."

"Right," he said, gingerly removing the lenses from his face and setting them on the nightstand along with the hairbrush, squinting instinctively as his field of vision dimmed and blurred. Beside him, the brunette closed her eyes and exhaled silently, already being called to slumber by the steady rhythm of a familiar heartbeat. "See you in the morning."

"Mmkay," Emma managed, barely stirring when he reached to turn off the orbal lamp and plunge the small room into darkness, and he couldn't help but try and survey the surroundings one last time even as his body gave into sleep's siren call; the striped curtains pulled aside at the open window in anticipation of a familiar, the bookshelves where one was equally likely to find political history essays and collections of ancient folklore, a closet that held in its very depths two eye-grabbing outfits that may have been used for a festival once upon a time, and finally, resting in his arms, the peaceful silhouette of the most amazing being in Zemuria.

This was home. *She* was home, and the last thing that Machias registered before following Emma into the world of dreams was the sweet scent of strawberry.

* * *

Man, I don't think I've written something this tooth-rotting in... ever. I have no idea what's going to happen with the characters in CSIII, but until that drops and destroys my headcanon utterly (as it probably will) I hope someone enjoys my quiet little snapshot of happily ever after... despite the fact that I'm not remotely done with this pairing (or with CS in general - sooooo many NPC's with potential). After all, you can write an ending first, right?


End file.
